I wish I’d lived in the days of Pharaoh,
When the girls wore nothing much at all.
Those were the days when men were unaware
o’ all the think for which we have to fall.
Now-a-days, nobody knows
which is girl, and which is clothes.
Think what a time Egyptians had,
When the wrens could neither paint nor pad.
Right out there on the burning sand,
Where the flatirons blow by the Pyramids grand,
I’d have built a special big grandstand,
When the chickens had their play-time;
With a bright search-light for the velvet night,
And a camera ready for the day-time. When my
caravan was resting by the waters of the Nile;
I’d have seen those maidens dressed in bits of chiffon and a smile;
I’d have found it interesting,
To have been a crocodile,
When my caravan was resting by the waters of the Nile.